


You know, but do you understand?

by TalksToMirrors



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, M/M, Might feature other people later on also, No war, Not Canon Compliant, about anything actually, an impressive lack of voldemort, at all people, but like I said I'm not sure, just politics, not sure yet if it's going to stay that way, oneshot turned multichapter fic, so I apologise already now for the very long waits..., sorry - Freeform, veela fic, veela!harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-05
Updated: 2012-10-05
Packaged: 2017-11-15 16:57:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/529500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TalksToMirrors/pseuds/TalksToMirrors
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This had never been seen before, it was unheard of, thought impossible and frankly laughable. But Draco Malfoy hadn't made a name for himself as a researcher by believing the word of others before him. And he knew that if someone deserved to claim this particular discovery to their name, it would be him. Maybe this would finally get his father to realize what he had been overlooking all along, and maybe his mother would stop looking so pinched whenever she saw him. </p><p>This would boost his career and give him the connections his father had so kindly deigned to provide him with. There was nothing that could stop him now, not even the huge beautiful eyes following his every move like a hawk, ready to strike or run at any given moment. Bloody hell, what was he even doing?</p>
            </blockquote>





	You know, but do you understand?

**Author's Note:**

> This is a oneshot I've been working on forever. And when I say forever I literally mean over a year... sooo, well I just started feeling bad seeing all the dust starting to cover it in my fanfiction folder, and decided in the end to post it like it was. No frantic re-reading over and over and over again, gosh, I don't know what to do!?!?! It's very different from any veela fic I've ever read before and I hope somebody likes it... it's my baby. Please be careful guys, it's a bit fragile and inexperienced still... o.O

Knockturn Alley was bustling with people despite the less than ideal weather and very early hour, a fact that was quite disconcerting as it was decidedly uncommon to venture out into the alley before the disguise of darkness had fallen. But as it was, all possible source of light into the dark maze of shops and suspicious nooks was blocked by the dark grey blanket of storm clouds, shielding the slowly awakening sun. A tall blond man, who had just emerged from the passageway to Diagon Alley, watched the clouds imploringly and you could almost describe the glint in his eyes as glee.  
  
So it was true.  
  
Draco Malfoy strolled confidently down the crowded street, not looking or paying any interest to the people covering away, whispering behind their hands. He was running a tad bit late, but of course being a Malfoy meant that no one would dare mention it, or at least not say it to his face. He had ventured out into the open for the first time in weeks, emerging from his lab at the Malfoy Manor, awakening every gossip mill in town. His father had brought this particular situation, or rather individual to his attention, and Draco was now on his way to find out its actual worth.  
  
Draco was a bit wary of what he was going to find, not that he would ever admit that to anyone, but also uncommonly hopeful that his father, who had not stood face to face with Draco for several months now, was finally coming to accept his occupation of choice. Draco had gone against his fathers wishes by not seeking to work in the ministry, but instead take up an almost obsessive pursuit of science and research. And his particular field of interest?  
  
Veelas.  
  
His interest was first peaked when he encountered one, on an annual trip to France with his parents. It had been a striking specimen, and Draco had almost fallen into its clutches as it invited him to dance with outstretched arms and a seductive sway of its hips, but his mother had come running, stopping any more advances from the fair siren.  
  
He had been quite obsessed ever since, and coveted any fresh information he could find. And now he believed, if everything went well, that he was on the tread to a breakthrough.  
  
The Polish mythology brought forward a spirit, in the form of a beautiful female, who lives in the wilderness. They are said to be fairy-like, but can also shape-shift into numerous different creatures, like the wolf, snake, swan or horse. But the most well-known form is still a beautiful maiden with flowing silver hair and flaxen complexion.  
  
But if his father was right, and Draco hoped so with all his might, they had managed to locate a male veela. It was unheard of and thought impossible, and Draco couldn’t wait for the moment when he could claim the new discovery under his name.  
  
A male veela shouldn’t be achievable… unless it was completely pure. Female veelas mated with human men, wizards to be exact. A veela could not reproduce with a muggle. They lacked the enchantment and power of magical blood and would die within the hour that they came in contact with something so pure, as veela flesh. This made it necessary for veelas to seek mates in wizards, and at the same time providing us access to their differing magic and knowledge of how to use it. Wizards had made notable progress in understanding the different species under the last hundred years, but some things were still a mystery. Draco couldn’t understand how a male veela had come into existence, it was unheard of.  
  
Draco had a hard time controlling his glee.  
  
Veelas had also made big improvements for their own species future. By mating with wizards their children gained the right to study at one of the wizarding schools, and many of today’s veela descendants lived normally in the human society. But of course there were still the wild ones, with own rules and hidden villages deep into the forests and mountains. When a veela and wizard mated, it was very rare that they even knew each other or planned on spending their lives together. It was not marriage or a family that the veelas were after, it was descendants. So usually the veela would disappear back into the forest after giving birth, baby coming with them.  
  
But of course it wasn’t unheard of veela descendants that married wizards. For example take that Weasley and that French woman. It was a known fact that her grandmother had been a veela.  
  
There were people who hunted and captured wild veelas, but Draco was quite content with studying them.  
  
Until now.  
  
Draco neither noticed nor cared, the scurrying of scared footsteps making their way away from him. Nothing could break his focus from the door before him. He glanced around, his face shielded by the hooded dark cloak he was wearing, and when no one appeared to be watching him he refocused disdainfully on the building in front of him.  
  
‘Borgin and Burkes’ Draco sneered the name in his mind. The shop was one his father frequented, but personally Draco couldn’t stand the smell of the moth eaten curtains and mouldy skulls lining the walls. And the owner. Ugh. Draco had never had the displeasure of meeting a more slippery man. Draco would have shuddered, but Malfoy’s don’t shudder, so he settled for a sneer and one final breath of clean air before he stepped in.  
  
The alley seemed to let out a collective breath of relief as he disappeared from view.  
   
The shop was empty when he stepped inside, and Draco let his hood fall and his eyes to wander for a moment, not bothering to even attempt hiding is glower.  
  
Nothing had changed since the last time he had visited the gory place a couple of months back, and Draco couldn’t say he was surprised.  
The dusty glass cases lining the walls, filled with dark objects that would make any sane man shiver, shielded the vaults that an untrained eye would miss. These vaults were Borgin’s treasures. It was where he stored his most noteworthy objects, Draco knew of them only because his father had occasionally bargained with the oily shop owner. Those vaults were pricey. Draco’s eyes lingered on a big assortment of sparkling green emeralds, probably cursed to kill any thief who touched them.  
  
Irritation seemed to slowly override his earlier excitement when no one emerged from behind the curtain at the back of the shop. He was not used to waiting, and Mr. Borgin would certainly perceive his displeasure.  
  
Just when he was about to ring the bell again, a hunched figure stepped out from behind the thick velvet curtain, immediately plastering on a forced smile when they noticed who was standing on the other side of the dark wooden counter.  
  
“Mr Malfoy. I see you are here without your father today, is all well?” Draco barely resisted rolling his eyes. Borgin really needed to work on his acting skills; it was quite clear in his expressions that the fool would be one of the first ones to dance over Lucius Malfoy’s grave.  
  
“My father is well, but now that you brought it up, he did mention that you have recently required something very out of the ordinary into your possession. Any idea what I’m talking about, Mr Borgin?” Draco almost smirked when he saw the realization flicker behind flimsy blue eyes. Yes, Borgin knew that Draco knew, and that he would not be leaving without it. But still, the idiot had to try, didn’t he?  
  
“The shipment of the new and improved poisonous candles have just arrived yesterday, Mr Malfoy. They are right over-“  
  
“No you bumbling fool! You know very well what I came here for, and trust me; I am going to obtain it!” Borgin was clutching at straws, but Draco couldn’t bring himself to even pretend to care. He, Draco Malfoy was richer, more powerful and well connected, more so than Borgin would ever be. And he also couldn’t risk losing their business; Lucius Malfoy was a regular here. There was only one way this conversation would end. And now Draco was going in for the kill.  
  
“I’ll buy it off you cheaply. You wouldn’t want the ministry to get wind of it, would you? Imagine what would happen if they decided to raid the shop.” Draco’s smile turned just a tad bit crueller when Borgin’s face twisted in poorly concealed horror. “Certainly a sentence in Azkaban is most unwished for? I can take it off your hands, no ‘thank you’ necessary.” Draco smirked, but anyone with eyes could see that it was more like a sneer. He had won. And they both knew it. Lucius Malfoy was a powerful man, and if he said that someone should investigate Borgin, someone would. They could find a new place for their business later on.  
  
“Let me show you to It, follow me.” Borgin did not quite succeed in taming the bitterness from his voice, but Draco could care less. Now he needed information.  
  
“Tell me all you know,” he ordered the older man, and Borgin hesitated under the command, making Draco almost curse him. And maybe Borgin sensed this, because he quickly started spewing out any information he knew.  
  
“It was captured in Bulgaria a couple of days ago. They were hunting for veelas to have as mascots at the Quidditch World Cup later this summer. Mr Burke just happened to be there at the time, receiving a new order of dragon blood. The men paid to capture the veelas, were all idiots-” that was rich coming from the imbecile in front of him, but Draco suppressed a snort, though with some difficulty. ”-they had no idea of the magnitude of their find. We were able to bargain it from them without too much hassle. I expect them all to be fired by now. I will let you examine it for yourself, but first I need you to sign some papers.” Draco gritted his teeth, but didn’t interrupt.  
  
“It seems to be in perfect health except the wound it acquired when captured, they told me it put up quite a struggle, but of course I’m no expert.” Draco growled when he heard that they had harmed it. He should get it for free now. Borgin went on, oblivious to the storm brewing behind the grey eyes.  
  
They were walking down dark corridor after the other, and if Draco hadn’t been sure of where he was, he would have thought Borgin was trying to lead him into a trap. The air grew colder around them, and he was sure that he would be able to see his breath if he lit his wand. As it was too dark to see anything at all at the moment. Draco cursed the other man for making him follow his voice.  
  
“You have undoubtedly noticed the weather, and come to the same conclusion that it is the veelas doing. It does not seem openly hostile, but it has neither tried to make contact nor spoken to anyone.” Borgin unlocked an old wooden door and motioned for Draco to step inside. The door slid shut after them again, but Draco didn’t hear the bolts sliding back into place. Good, Borgin knew not to trap them inside.  
  
The papers were the standard vows of secrecy and loyalty to the shop. Signed with a blood quill. Draco despised that thing more than he despised muggle pens. And the one Borgin made him use, seemed to have a couple of hexes cast upon it. His hand would be stinging for the rest of the day. Maybe he would have to brew himself some pain soothing potion, he was running out of Murtlap essence as it was.  
  
When Borgin was finally satisfied, and had no more ways of stalling he led Draco slowly down a grey corridor and stopped at a second door. He opened it and revealed a narrow staircase that would lead them down into the shops dark cellar, that was actually just made up of dank and dirty tunnels that led to all over the alley. The fool had enough sense to walk down first.  
  
Draco could detect no sound except their own breathing and dull footsteps and he couldn’t see a foot ahead of himself, there was no light at all, but the air seemed to crackle with energy, his wand tingling in his hand. They were close.  
  
As they reached the bottom of the wooden death trap, Borgin waved his wand once, and dozens of chandeliers flickered to life. Draco had to stifle a gasp when the cage and creature inside it came into view. It truly was magnificent. The air seemed to ignite by the mere presence of such a being, and Draco’s skin puckered and hairs stood on end as he stepped closer. Even Borgin seemed to feel the effects, though somehow it seemed he was in pain. Draco wondered if this was of the veelas doing, and if it sensed the evil in that man. He certainly hoped so.  
  
The cage wasn’t very big, it couldn’t be more than four feet wide and seven feet high, and the veela barely had space to move, and Draco could feel his feet slowly glide forward to get a better view. But just then a wave of magic washed over him, and he could literally feel the tingle in his fingertips.  
  
When he finally got back his ability to breathe he decided to marvel at the magic later and get it home first, and he wondered what enchantments the cage had been submitted to; otherwise the veela would surely have escaped already. He turned to Borgin and gestured to the obvious wards crackling in the air around the cage.  
  
“It is a simple stinging hex on the cage, so if it tries to escape, the bars will smart it forcefully, making the bars impossible to hold onto. It also tried to transform and get out, but the bars will transform into a steal wall as soon as magic is detected,” Borgin seemed proud as he explained, but Draco couldn’t understand the cruelty subjected upon the unique veela. He strived not to show his anger though, and sneered, no more venomous than usual, or maybe a bit, Borgin did seem to wince.  
  
“How will I get it to the manor?” As Borgin explained the complicated widening of the floo, Draco circled the cage, peering at the form inside.  
  
It was curled up in a ball, and the only thing Draco could see was its muscular back and legs, its head tucked under its arms. It made no sign of noticing them, and Draco wondered if it was asleep, but then what had that magic been? Then suddenly the veelas head popped up and Draco was unable to stifle the gasp this time, as silvery eyes met his grey ones.  
  
It had the same fair skin as the females of its kind, and it seemed to shimmer slightly in the dim light of the cellar, but its hair was jet black and incredibly messy, and Draco could swear that he saw a leaf in there. Its cheekbones were high and seemed almost sculpted by gods, and a strong and defined jaw with no trace of stubble or slightest imperfection, which put Draco’s blood pure features to shame. Full pink lips seemed to pout at him. Its big owl like eyes seemed to pierce Draco’s soul, and made him quite unable to look away.  
  
The veela made a motion of lifting its arm and reaching towards him, almost pleadingly, a low keening sound escaping those beautiful lips, but then it came into contact with the bars, and hissed in pain before drawing back into its tight ball.  
  
Draco looked on entranced as the figure shuddered before once again peeking up at him, silver smouldering him from under the dark fringe. Draco turned his attention back to Borgin with some difficulty, and drew out his money pouch without prompting. He dropped the small leather pouch into the outstretched hand, not bothering to sneer at the greedy look in the owner’s eyes.  
  
“Show me the fireplace, I’m taking it home, now.” Borgin jumped into action, no longer bitter after the gold had dropped into his hands, and quickly waved his wand again, an old looking fireplace in the corner roared to life with green flames.  
  
The veela flinched at the sudden sound and curled up even tighter. Draco noted how it seemed to tremble slightly, and suddenly they could hear the crash of thunder in the distance. His eyebrows rose slightly in surprise. Usually veelas were able to control various elements, but never very strongly. This one seemed exceptionally powerful, or just very distressed. Veelas also had their tone of voice as a weapon. It hypnotized anyone who heard it when they used their magic, and it compelled listeners into submission. Draco wondered why this particular one hadn’t even tried to speak.  
  
He cast a hovering charm on the cage, steering it towards the flames, reaching for the floo powder container from his robe pocket. And then things happened too fast for Draco to react properly. The veelas eyes widened and it jumped up from its curled ball protection, looking fearfully as the fire neared it. Its eyes cut to Draco before again focusing on the fire, pressing its tall body against the bars, hissing in pain but not moving to step away from the stinging. Draco looked on bewildered when it suddenly slumped forward hiding its head between its arms again. It feared the fire.  
  
He moved closer to the cage, careful not to startle it when it clearly was upset already. This was not going as planned. He needed to gain its trust, not make it fear him. Draco would have no chance to examine it more closely if the veela shied away from him or lashed out.  
It was now peeking at him from under its trembling arms, and Draco felt a pang of despair as he saw the tears streaking down its face, and the angry red burns on its back. Fearful eyes watched him carefully as he came closer.  
  
“It’s not going to hurt you. It’s the floo; it will take us away from here. Calm down, I will not let anything harm you,” Draco wasn’t even sure it could understand him but it seemed to relax slightly as he whispered soothingly to it, and Draco threw the floo powder into the fire before directing the cage in and stepping after it.  
  
“Malfoy Manor!” a last look at the back of Borgin as the man turned to go back upstairs before the green overtook his vision, and they disappeared.  
   
Draco stumbled slightly when they arrived at the manor, not quite used to flooing with objects, even less so with something as big and clumsy as the miniature prison besides him. The fire place had been charmed to accommodate anything that needed transporting so there was plenty of space for the cage; it was just the matter of controlling his own spinning and someone else’s that was particularly challenging.  
The cage. Draco despised the thing, but wasn’t sure what to do. Could the veela be trusted out of it, or should he just modify the spells on it. He would not let it be hurt again, not in such a cruel manner.  
  
Draco straightened up and dusted the soot of his robe, before turning to the veela. It was still huddled in one of the corners, as far away from Draco as possible without touching the bars. But the veela was also studying the new surroundings closely, but snapped its eyes back to Draco when it saw him moving towards it. It watched with narrowed eyes as Draco neared it, trying to move as slowly as possible, trying not to scare it more than it clearly already was.  
  
“I’m not going to hurt you. This is my home, where you will also live from now on. I can let you out of that cage if you promise to not attack or run away. Do we have a deal?” Draco cast a silent charm at the cage, ridding it of every hex upon it. Then he reached out and touched the bars, ignoring the fearful look of the veela. What had happened to make it so distrustful? Draco snorted to himself. Yeah, stupid question. It wasn’t like it had been captured a couple of days ago and brought away from its home.  
  
The veela watched with wide eyes as Draco touched the bars and nothing happened. Slowly it reached forward its own hand, and carefully nudged the bars, before drawing its arm back, examining it closely. When it seemed absolutely sure that nothing had happened, it looked up and smiled at Draco, who had to tell himself to focus.  
  
“Good. I will need to examine those burns on your back, and see if they need treatment- well of course they do, but I need to see how severe-” the veela was watching him peculiarly, almost like a little puppy waiting to be played with. Draco faintly wondered how old it was, but then it turned its back to him and showed the clear pale skin. No trace of the burns he had seen earlier.  
  
“W-what? How… I mean, how is that possible?! I saw them myself! You were crying-“ the veela huffed turning its nose in the air, and the gesture was so affronted that Draco had to laugh. It seemed more human now that it had relaxed, even though Draco couldn’t help but stare at the muscular chest and pale skin. It didn’t seem to shimmer anymore; it was now more like vaguely glowing. Well that wasn’t very unusual for veelas after all, so it didn’t worry him.  
  
“Oh, sorry, you weren’t crying, got it.” The veela rolled its eyes at him before gesturing to the lock. Draco had to shake himself before quickly opening the door and let the veela out. When it hesitated, Draco took a couple of steps back. Gaining this one’s trust wouldn’t be easy it seemed. It watched him cautiously for a minute before warily looking around the grand foyer of Malfoy Manor. It seemed to deem itself safe enough to move, and slowly made its way out of the cage.  
  
Draco watched fascinated as the veela moved gracefully, walking like any other human and still you could see the wild creature in its movements. Its tensed form ready for fight and sharp eyes, noticing so much more than a human ever could.  
  
Draco glanced around himself, and wondered if this really had been the smartest place to bring the veela. The big foyer with shining marble floors, and dark velvet curtains, the great staircase that curved gracefully up, the paintings and statues lining the walls, Draco had never actually been very fond of the grandiose hall, it seemed too gaudy. Draco imagined it could look quite intimidating for the veela, who was probably not used to anything like it. It could only get worse when they ventured deeper into the house.  
  
Draco was suddenly brought back from his musings by a loud crash and a surprised yelp. He twirled around and saw the veela standing there, its arms suspended in the air, as if it had been holding something. And on the floor, was a centuries old crystal vase that had been filled with flowers, but was now broken into a thousand pieces in a big puddle of water, the flowers littering the floor. Draco could almost hear the veela gulp, and when he looked back up, the veela looked so panicked and sheepish, that Draco burst out laughing. The veela stared on bewildered.  
   
When Draco finally calmed down and cleaned the mess up, he noticed how no one had come to investigate the noise. No house elf or his parents had emerged to inquire or scold, and Draco surmised that the manor was empty. His parents could very well be at a dinner party somewhere or just out doing business or maybe even at one of their other homes, which would certainly explain the absence of house elves. They weren’t home much in the first place, so why did this fact surprise him? He shrugged it off, and turned to the veela, who had lost interest in Draco long ago, and was now studying the room more closely. Draco watched as it scrutinized the silver engravings on the frame of a painting, and then it moved forwards, poking a golden dragon statue, and then running its fingers through the thick fabric of the velvet curtains.  
  
Draco didn’t dare to interrupt but the veela seemed to sense his staring, and slowly looked over at him. Draco raised an eyebrow, gesturing to the broken vase, and the veela shrugged apologetically, even though he got the feeling that it wasn’t very sorry at all.  
  
He shook his head, more amused than exasperated and the veela continued probing around the room. Draco let it go on for a while, but he was starting to get quite impatient to start examining and questioning the veela, preferably today and not next year.  
  
Then Draco mentally scolded himself. He couldn’t be impatient, he couldn’t rush this. He needed to win its trust first. He closed his eyes, counting down from ten, slowly breathing in and out, trying to calm himself. He could hear no sound except his own calm breathing. But Draco knew the veela was still there, he could feel it.  
  
When he felt sufficiently calmed down, he opened his eyes, and promptly screamed.  
  
There before him, standing almost nose to nose with Draco was the veela. It was so near that Draco could feel the veelas magic shimmer and envelop him, his hairs standing on end again. The veela was watching him curiously, silver eyes peering at him from under unbelievably dark long lashes. It blinked owlishly at him, before raising its arm slowly.  
  
Draco’s eyes didn’t waver from the silver pools that were burning with fire, flashing dangerously at him, but he could still see the hand moving in the corner of his eye. The veela slowly touched a long slender finger to Draco’s neck hissing something. Draco could feel a sudden burning pain where the veela was touching him, but he couldn’t move away. His thoughts were dizzy and his body felt heavy.  
  
What had the veela done?  
  
And then suddenly the veela stepped back, smiling almost impishly at him, and Draco lifted his own hand to slowly touch his neck. He couldn’t feel anything out of the ordinary, but what had then just happened?  
  
Draco narrowed his eyes at the veela but it didn’t even fidget, just blinked innocently, too innocently for Draco’s taste.  
“What did you do?” Draco wasn’t really expecting an answer and merely sighed when the veela grinned and started walking around the room again. Draco rubbed at his neck absently before starting up the stairs, waving at the veela to follow him. Hmm. He would have to come up with a name for it. ‘The veela’ was getting a bit tiring.  
  
Draco led the way to his study witch he had improved in preparation. The highly expensive cherry wood desk was still there but all his business documents and notes were cleaned away, somewhere safe where nothing could damage them. The heavy antique furniture was moved so there was a big open place in the middle of the room, where he had set up an examination table, ready for him to start experimenting. The bookshelves were filled with books of every kind, and small jars with different foreign objects he had collected over the years.  
  
The veela watched all this a bit hesitantly, its eyes lingering on the cold metal table uncertainly. Draco once again felt like smacking himself. The study didn’t look very inviting at all he guessed. Looked more like some kind of laboratory than his very relaxed study, Draco wasn’t sure he liked the changes himself. He tried to smile reassuringly at the veela, motioning for it to sit down on the table, whilst he went around to his desk, rummaging through the messy drawers for a quill and some parchment. Draco’s desk always seemed to be a complete mess, with left over scraps of parchment littering the study, broken quills stuffed in the drawers, books strewn on every imaginable surface.  
  
The veela watched everything cautiously, once again on its guard in the new surroundings, but after staring at Draco with those unnervingly silver eyes for a moment, it walked forward slowly and hopped up on the table, its feet dangling over the ground looking at him rather expectantly.  
  
“Sorry about this, but no one has never seen anything like you and… well the information is quite valuable.” The veela narrowed its eyes, and Draco sat down in the chair that he had pulled up to the table feeling almost like he was being chastised.  
  
He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Well, let’s begin. Um, what’s your name?” This seemed like a good place to start, even though Draco doubted that the veela knew any English. This was a serious lack in his plan and he had no idea how he would be able to communicate. The veela didn’t seem too bothered though, and in a show of unexpected poise smiled at him and hopped off the table, startling him thoroughly.  
  
“Hrabanus.” its voice rang clear and strong in the room, and Draco could almost feel the world stop spinning for a second, just letting the echo linger. It was rich and deep, sounding like velvet that had been dipped in honey and then coated with the glow of a thousand halos. It flowed to every part of Draco’s body, igniting a fire somewhere deep. It was like a small whisper of something too magnificent to ever truly be true, a gentle hand caressing the filth of today’s sins. Draco was breathless. And the veela just smiled.  
  
“Er, Hraba- is it okay if I just , um, call you… er, Harry?” Draco did not want to offend the veela in any way, but he was sure to do it trying to say its name. It smiled some more nodding absently, looking around the room, its eyes lingering curiously on the books and other small knick-knacks littering every surface of the room.  
  
“Harry. Okay, so… you understand English?” Draco was pretty lost about what to do. The veela- Harry- was acting so human, that it felt strange to ‘examine’ it. Him. Draco shook his head, trying quite unsuccessfully to clear it, no idea what to do anymore.  
  
Get rid of the table maybe? Yes, it did seem out of place, and Draco knew himself well enough to know that he wouldn’t be examining Harry today. With a lazy flick of his wand, the table vanished and the furniture moved back to their original places, startling Harry who had been examining his stone collection lined up on one shelf, and he quickly spun around, trying to keep an eye open for the moving furniture and at the same time be ready to defend himself. Harry’s eyes flickered to him carefully, and seeing the wand in his hand, relaxed slightly, before fully straightening up from his defensive crouch, even though he never let his eyes stray from the wand.  
  
“Harry, would you sit down please. I want to talk to you for a moment, and then you can look around as closely as you want.” Draco gestured to the plush armchair opposite him and Harry slowly walked around the room and lowered himself into it, tense and never breaking their gaze.  
  
“I will not let anything hurt you here; there is no reason to fear me. Are you not used to magic?” Harry shook his head carefully, but Draco had no idea if he was contradicting his reassurance or answering his question. Sigh, this was going to be a long night.  
  
“How old are you?”  
  
“Old.” Draco refrained from rolling his eyes, knowing that it was just his nerves acting up.  
  
“Okay, so you do understand English?”  
  
“English,” Harry mouthed the word thoughtfully, like he was testing it out.  
  
“Yes or no?”  
  
“Yes, no.” Draco could feel his face twisting in confusion, and Harry was watching him closely. Waiting for something.  
  
“Draco.” he pointed at himself, just testing it out. Harry seemed to be repeating him.  
  
“Harry.” Harry pointed at himself. So maybe not. Draco furrowed his eyebrows helplessly. He was confusing himself.  
  
“Yes, you are Harry, can you tell me how old you are?” Harry shrugged and got up from the chair again. This time Draco did roll his eyes. It seemed impossible for Harry to sit still. Harry walked around the room, and Draco sat in his chair watching him poke at stuff resignedly rubbing his temples. But then Harry picked something up holding it close to his face, before turning to Draco and showing it to him.  
  
“A remembrall.”  
  
“Remembrall,” Harry repeated and turned the glass ball in his hand, and watched fascinated when a black mist appeared inside. Draco couldn’t remember ever seeing a remembrall react that way before and examined it closely when Harry handed the ball to Draco, before digging deeper into the clutter, now quite exited with this new game.  
  
Harry showed the next thing under Draco’s nose, eyes bright and expectant a gleeful smiled spreading over his face.  
“Omnioculars.”  
  
“Omnioculars,” Harry tossed them on the desk before showing Draco another object, waiting for him to name it.  
  
“Lunascope.” They went on like this for quite some time, Harry picking something up and Draco would say what it was and Harry would repeat it before showing him the next thing. Draco realized that he was teaching Harry, and slowly started to weasel in sentences that Harry would then repeat. It seemed like Harry understood what he was saying but couldn’t –or wouldn’t- speak. He only repeated what Draco was saying. But slowly Harry seemed to relax even more, and Draco sat back in his chair, relaxing even though his eyes didn’t stray from Harry.  
  
This went on for a while, as Draco’s office was quite full of small trinkets he had acquired while travelling, and every single one of them seemed to amaze Harry to no end. And that childish wonder in his eyes made something in Draco come alive, and the spot that Harry had touched earlier tingled, but not in a unpleasant way.  
  
It was starting to get dark outside when Draco suddenly became aware of the rumble in his stomach. He glanced at the golden watch strapped to his wrist and then had to do a double take. Merlin, it was a lot later than he thought and he would have to cook by himself tonight, and who knew how that could go? He wasn’t a very proficient cook he had to admit, but he had never needed to be, they had house-elves for that. He would just have to come up with something, Harry was surely hungry too.  
  
He focused his eyes back on Harry when he noticed how oddly quiet the room suddenly was. Harry had been moving around for hours and the sudden stillness was confusing. At first glance the room was empty, but when he looked closer he could see Harry’s still form standing in the shadow of the book case with a frame in his hands, for once staying silent. Draco recognized the familiar shape at first glance, and wondered what had made Harry so focused on it.  
  
Draco noted how Harry’s black hair seemed to swallow the light around him, and Harry’s skin wasn’t glowing anymore. It was like a natural defence, his body adjusting to the shadows to hide. It was a stark change from the wary but endearingly curious boy… man? Draco couldn’t really decide.  
  
Harry had also been chattering non-stop the whole time after he seemed to suddenly overcome his shyness with curiosity, sometimes just simple words that didn’t really make sense at first but then Harry would do something with his hands or face and Draco would understand.  
Somewhat.  
  
He would also speak another language. Or that was what Draco presumed it to be, because he had never heard anything quite like it, the rich tones of Harry’s voice forming words that sounded more like a melody than speech. So it was odd that Harry had fallen silent now, and a small part of Draco mourned the loss of Harry’s voice, but he quickly shut that minuscule part up and watched Harry closely.  
  
He was holding a frame that contained an old photograph of him and his parents, standing outside in the snow in front of the manor. His father had an arm around his mother and they were both holding a younger Draco Malfoy by the shoulder, restraining him so he wouldn’t run off again. It had been a lovely day, and Draco still remembered the trouble he had gotten into when he just wouldn’t stand still for the photo.  
  
He had just been too excited about the snow!  
  
They were all bundled up in layers of warm clothing, and there was a slight flush to their cheeks from the cold. The family in the photograph was smiling and waved at the camera happily, before the Narcissa in the picture would start fussing with younger Draco’s scarf.  
  
Draco got up from his seat slowly, but Harry didn’t even notice him moving, which was unusual. Harry had relaxed with time, but Draco had been aware of how closely Harry was watching him, just not as obviously anymore. But now he was too transfixed on the picture in his hands. He walked around the room carefully, not wanting to startle Harry or frighten him. He stopped a short distance away, not yet sure how Harry would respond to any closer contact.  
  
“Harry?” he tried hesitantly and silver eyes snapped up, nailing Draco to the spot. Harry’s shoulders tensed and fingers curled around the frame in his hands, but Draco didn’t look away from the flashing gaze that burned on his skin. It reminded him of greeting a hippogriff. Looking away seemed wrong, and potentially dangerous.  
  
Thunder rumbled from somewhere.  
  
There was no sign of the childish wonder in those eyes anymore, and Draco wasn’t sure how to continue. And then just as suddenly Harry relaxed again, straightening up from his unconscious fight stance, his eyes changing from dark stormy black back to glistening silver.  
  
“That is you,” he motioned to the frame in his hand, and Draco nodded. Harry glanced back at the photograph before putting it very carefully back on the shelf. They stood in silence for a moment, and Draco couldn’t help but feel they were both waiting for something, but what? The silence pressed down on his ears, and he barely stopped himself from clamping his hands over them, but Harry made no move to say anything anymore. And then his stomach grumbled. Loudly.  
  
Harry grinned and Draco flushed but he couldn’t be sure if it was from embarrassment or because of the way Harry’s plump lips curved and revealed a perfect row of gleaming teeth. Queue more embarrassment, and Harry only continued grinning. He cleared his throat and rubbed at the back of his neck, avoiding looking at Harry and that smile again.  
  
“I was just about to ask you if you were hungry. Our house-elf’s are with my parents, but I’m sure I could come up with something…” Draco trailed off when he noticed the look on Harry’s face. There was an excited gleam in his eyes, and he was biting his lip shyly. Draco had a very hard time focusing on what Harry was saying, and only caught the last bit.  
  
“-can cook,” Harry smiled timidly, wringing his hands and shuffling his feet. Draco shook his head.  
  
“I’m sorry what?” Harry raised an eyebrow before frowning lightly. He eyed Draco for a moment before lightly smirking, and touching his neck nonchalantly. Draco eyes widened slightly but he didn’t move or in any other way indicate that the spot on his neck was tingling again.  
  
“I said that I can cook,” Harry smiled hopefully and what could Draco say to that, other than- “Sure.”  
  
It didn’t take long before Draco found himself sitting at the small table in the Manor kitchen, or as small as anything could be in this house. He had been shooed away from the stove as soon as Harry had gotten over his wonder at the sheer size of the room they were in, and was now watching him dart around the kitchen like he had been born there. Draco sat there bemused when Harry opened cabinets he didn’t even know existed, and watched as the veela chopped and stirred and practically danced around the open space. He was humming to himself, and Draco thought he never would get used to how beautiful Harry’s voice was. He had never been more turned on. And the spot on his neck was tingling madly again. He would really have to check that out later.  
  
But that was a problem for another time, as there was no way he would be able to focus on anything else than the fact that Harry was still not wearing a shirt, but instead was only clad in a pair of what looked like silk trousers that clung to Harry in all the right places, even if they did look a bit worse for wear now with dirt stains and rips revealing even more exquisitely pale skin. Probably left from the scuffle Borgin mentioned. His broad shoulders and muscled back flexed as he reached for something from one of the higher shelf’s, causing Draco to tear his eyes away in the hope that he wouldn’t start drooling.  
  
It didn’t take long before the room was filled with mouth watering aromas, and Draco’s stomach rumbled again, reminding him of its meagre existence. It felt funny to sit at the table and have Harry, a veela, do all the work and he was just about to stand up and force his assistance because surely that was the only way for Harry to accept it, when a plate was placed in front of him. Draco looked around startled as Harry hadn’t moved from the stove where he was still stirring something. But he didn’t even get to open his mouth before Harry turned around holding a bowl and sat down opposite him.  
  
“Eat.” It was a simple command, and Draco sat bewildered for a second, amazed at the sudden confidence in the veela, before a fork and knife floated over and stopped right in front of his face. He could feel his eyes widen in amazement, and mentally reprimanded himself instantly. He was acting like an eleven year old muggleborn who was seeing magic for the first time. He looked back up and saw Harry studying him closely, and he smiled reassuringly before plucking the floating utensils from the air and looking down at his plate.  
  
“Where did you learn to cook?” it looked delicious, and he took a deep breath letting the spicy but surprisingly sweet smell envelope him fully. Draco had been to many a restaurant in his life, but none of the food had looked quite like this.  
  
The kitchen became chillier for a second, but before Draco had even time to shiver, Harry raised an eyebrow but stayed silent, and for some reason Draco couldn’t be sure if he didn’t know what to say, or if he didn’t want to. So he also stayed quiet.  
  
He was completely bewildered at the mood changes that Harry had gone through the last hour or two. He had gone from curiously chattering away about anything and everything to quietly studying his family picture, and then again cheering up when entering the kitchen. And now back to this quiet shadow, stiff and wary. Draco didn’t know what to think of anything.  
  
This was obviously going to be harder than he had originally thought.

**Author's Note:**

> So what did you think? omg, I'm sorry if you're eyes are burning or something from the terrible writing or just general crappiness.. sorry :/ 
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr as well, TalksToMirrors there too - yes I know I'm such a creative fucker. 
> 
> Sorry again guys... I just felt bad.


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